Kindred Souls
by Reidluver
Summary: Finding people with a protector complex so devoted it border-lined insanity was a rather rare occurrence. It was even rarer for two of them to meet.


**And it is yet another crossover from me! :) This time featuring my top favorite characters from Ouran and KHR. Here's an interesting story**—**the thing that really got me started on KHR was through me looking something up on Wikipedia on Mori for a story I was writing, and at the end there was this trivia, and it said that he closely resembled Yamamoto Takeshi from KHR, so I clicked on over and started reading a little about KHR**—**and I was hooked! :D**

**Please enjoy!**

***Oh, and in the KHR timeline, this occurs right after the Kokuyo Arc with Mukuro, during the time they were all recovering. Also, please ignore the fact that they don't live in the same town. :) And beware of Gokudera's language.  
**

* * *

It was a beautiful night. It was neither too hot nor too cold. There was a soft, fluttering breeze that brushed by every now and then; just enough to give a pleasant chill. The stars twinkled in the sky like miniature diamonds, yet they were all out-shined by the moon. It wasn't full quite yet, but it was large enough to light up the night.

It was now that Mori decided to take a jog. He had recently returned from the Haninozuka mansion to make sure Mitsukuni went to bed early. His cousin had a bit of a trying time at the Host Club today. To go with the martial arts cosplay they did, Mitsukuni had performed a series of judo moves for the ladies.

And while that would normally not seem strenuous enough to warrant an early bedtime for normal people—Mitsukuni was anything but. Normal people didn't wake at 5am every day to train ruthlessly, or train after school once their homework was done either. In the life of a Haninozuka or Morinozuka—training was everything. School and schoolwork was training for the mind, and when there weren't family or business matters to take care of—all their time was spent training for the body. It was the reason they were so accomplished at what they chose.

So now with Mitsukuni properly taken care of—Mori felt the need for a small jog before he'd retire as well. He would have preferred to practice some more kendo, but he had a small feeling that he needed to spend his time jogging. Mori couldn't explain it, but he sometimes got strange feelings or impressions. Like a sixth sense or whatever they called it. Be it for danger or to help someone, he always got these small premonitions of where to go and what he was supposed to do. It was never exactly clear until he got there or did it what the issue was though—and sometimes he didn't get any answer at all.

Nevertheless, these feelings were key to him serving Mitsukuni in the best way possible, and for that he was grateful. Because of them, he could protect his cousin. Mitsukuni was everything to him, and Mori was willing to do anything and everything he had to make him safe and happy.

And lately—Mori found that these feelings had started happening around the other members of the Host Club. It was rather confusing at first, and Mori was worried. Worried that it meant that he no longer was serving Mitsukuni to the best of his ability. It wasn't that he didn't care about protecting his other friends—but did it mean he was no longer worthy to serve Mitsukuni? His cousin deserved someone fully devoted to him and no one else.

When he eventually voiced his concerns to Mitsukuni, his cousin got this funny look on his face.

"_Silly Takashi," Mitsukuni had sighed. "I'm happy you feel that way for Tama-chan and the others! They're your friends and my friends, too!" _

It seemed that Mitsukuni thought it was perfectly fine, so Mori didn't question it. He was still trying to figure it out though; why it was acceptable. And he felt he was getting closer and closer to finally understanding—

"Damn it!"

Mori was jostled from his thoughts by someone walking a couple meters in front of him. For the most part of his run, he hadn't run into that many people. Most were inside getting ready for bed or were already asleep. It was all fine with Mori, because he didn't particularly like crowds anyway. Too many opportunities for someone to hurt Mitsukuni. Don't get him wrong—he liked people; it was just easier to protect Mitsukuni that way.

"Shit!"

Mori quickened his pace to shorten the distance between him and the swearing boy. He could barely make out the boy's profile since he was in a building's shadow, but from what Mori could see the boy was limping.

His senses immediately went into overdrive; listening for attackers, looking for the source of the boy's injuries, and sniffing for anything that didn't belong (there was a faint smell of blood and smoke).

From his preliminary survey of the area, it appeared that it was just the two of them, so Mori sprinted the last few meters to meet up with the boy. Now that he stumbled into the path of a streetlight, Mori could see him better. He had silver hair about Tamaki's length, yet styled differently. There was a lit cigarette in his mouth, so that explained the smoke. And the reason for the scent of blood was made clear when Mori noticed the typical hospital garb underneath the boy's unbuttoned jacket. As well as the bandages.

There were bandages around his neck, arms, hands, on his face, and some tightly wrapped around his chest. It worried Mori to think of what sort of trouble the boy could have been involved in to get like that, but not as much as the fact that the boy was walking around in his condition. Why wasn't he in the hospital?

The boy hadn't noticed him yet. Mori slowly walked behind him, wondering how to best approach the silver-haired boy. He looked to be in great pain—if the stumbling gait or tense shoulders were anything to go by—yet Mori could also tell he was dealing with more than physical pain at the moment. It was like he was fighting the urge to cry. The boy then clutched one bandaged arm around his chest and collapsed on the ground.

"Damn it!" he cried, using his other arm to partially prop himself up. "Why can't I do anything right?"

Mori figured this was the best time to step in—if not the only time. If the boy pushed himself any further he was going to hurt himself more than he already had.

"Are you all right?" He knelt down beside the boy and tried to help him get to a kneeling position. Key word—_tried_.

The boy slapped his hands away and glared at him. "Get the hell away from me, baseball idi—" He blinked (with striking green eyes, Mori noted) for a moment as he stared at Mori in confusion. "Thought you were that baseball nutter," the boy mumbled after a moment. He glanced down for a moment in embarrassment then glanced back up sharply. Mori was momentarily taken back by the anger in the boy's eyes and how quickly he could switch his moods. Tamaki was certainly the king of rapid mood swings, but never had Mori seen his friend wear such a hateful and cold expression as this boy was.

"Well? What the hell do you want?" the boy yelled, his eyes fierce. "I'm perfectly all right so leave me alone! I'll blow you up if you don't get out of here."

_Blow up?_ Mori found himself curious at the boy's choice of words. In his experience, people didn't regularly use that phrase when trying to ward someone off. Mori's gaze then traveled downwards to the boy's bandaged chest where it seemed like one of the wounds was re-opening. The boy followed Mori's gaze and swore. He tightened his grip on his chest and resumed glaring at Mori.

"I don't need your pity," he spat. "It's bad enough you _look_ like him. At least you don't wear that stupid smile, but I don't want you looking at me like that!"

Just what was this boy talking about? Who was this _him_ that he apparently kept comparing him to? No matter. That wasn't important at the moment.

"You should go back to the hospital," Mori said. Normally he wouldn't be so forceful, but he had the feeling that gentle coddling wouldn't work on this boy.

"And who the hell are you, my mother?" The boy's breath hitched ever so slightly and Mori watched curiously as a brief flash of pain passed through the boy's expression before it was quickly replaced by his earlier anger. It had happened so fast that if Mori were anyone else he would have dismissed it as his imagination. He found himself more and more intrigued by this boy with each passing second.

And for some reason, Mori felt a little protective of him, despite their brief interaction. After a moment's reflection, he realized it was because the boy strongly reminded him of Kasanoda Ritsu. His scowl and hairstyle were similar, and judging by the boy's choice in apparel and jewelry, he could even pass as a yakuza member. Not to mention the fact that he was _smoking_, when by all accounts he looked to be the twin's and Haruhi's age.

"No, I am not your mother," Mori said. "But I can tell you're hurt."

"So what? I can still take you on!" In a flash the boy had three sticks of dynamite in his hand. Mori's eyes widened ever so slightly. Where and _how_ did the boy do that? Mori's initial inspection of him didn't suggest he had concealed weapons on him. Was he a magician?

Mori watched as the boy brought the wicks up to his cigarette—_was that what it was for then?_—but before they could light, the boy gasped and curled in on himself. The dynamite fell to the ground as well as the cigarette as the boy wrapped both arms around his chest. He pulled his legs in close and moaned bitterly.

Finally having enough, Mori scooped the boy up in his arms, ignoring the feeble attempts at protest. He couldn't make the boy go back to the hospital, but he wasn't going to let him sit outside all by himself. Mori was going to bring him back to his house, redress his bandages, and hopefully convince the boy to return to the hospital.

After a moment's pause, Mori bent over, picked up the three sticks of dynamite and smashed the cigarette into the ground. A ruined cigarette he could leave; three dangerous canisters of gunpowder he couldn't.

"What the hell are you doing?" the boy yelled once the pain had subsided enough for him to speak. He was glaring at Mori with one eye clenched shut and Mori could see he was blushing slightly. "Put me down you freak!"

Mori could understand why the boy was so embarrassed—he was carrying him bridal-style after all. Certainly a damper on any male ego, but at the moment Mori didn't care. The boy was in no condition to walk, and if Mori tried to carry him piggyback the boy's chest wound might open further.

"You're hurt," Mori said. "Since you won't go to the hospital, I'll treat your wounds at my house."

"The hell I'm going to your house, pervert!" the boy said. "I'm not stupid!" He tried to squirm out of Mori's grip. "There's no way you're that nice to a stranger unless you want something in return!"

Knowing this would get him nowhere, Mori shifted his grip on the boy so he could carry him with one arm. Then he made a swift chopping motion against the back of the boy's neck. After a brief pause the boy went limp in his arm and Mori made a mental sigh of relief.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Gokudera awoke to silence. It was so rare that he was content to just lie there and soak it in. Though . . . it was a little surprising for it to be so quiet outside. Usually there was at least some noise—perhaps it was really early? That had to be it. From his experience on the streets, things got really quiet around two or three in the morning. (And that made it _ever_ so fun to scare the idiots half-to-death who were mean to him. The less experienced ones would trip over their own feet in a dazed, frantic state)

It was odd that he felt so warm though, and that the ground was so soft. He never knew cement could be so soft—

He bolted up once he remembered about that Yamamoto look-alike but instantly regretted it. He yelped as an intense wave of pain erupted from his chest and enveloped his entire body. Gokudera ended up with his forehead pressed against the soft ground and he panted. Beaded sweat slowly trailed down his face as he fought the urge to vomit. Normally whenever he felt like throwing up he just did it, because in his experience with Bianchi it made him feel better (unless he was in the Tenth's presence—there was no way he would chance getting any bile on his precious Tenth), but at the moment he knew it wouldn't be a wise choice. It would strain his chest too much.

Curse that animal freak! If it weren't for those damn side effects from the virus that pervert doctor Shamal gave him, he would have been able to sense the freak coming up behind him. And he would have been able to fry the yo-yo dude's ass, too. And _now _because of that wound acting up, he was currently in the home of a creepy guy. Creepy because he looked like he could be baseball idiot's twin brother and because he was well . . . _concerned_ about him. Going on and on about being "concerned" for his wound in that annoyingly deep voice of his. What kind of a teenager had that low of a voice anyway?

"If you move too much you'll strain your wound again."

Gokudera cracked open one eye and turned his head to face the idiot. "And why the hell do you care?"

"Because I just re-bandaged it," was the reply. Gokudera frowned and lifted a hand to feel his chest. Yep, they were new bandages all right. He could tell because his hand came away clean this time and not stained with blood.

He made a mental count of the dynamite concealed on him, and then slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, being careful not to re-open his wound. Only because it was the smart thing to do and _not_ because that idiot told him to.

"Why did you do that?" Gokudera asked.

"I said I would." The idiot was sitting in front of him and watching him intently, as if he expected him to bolt any second. Well, at least the guy was smart enough to realize that.

Gokudera took a look at his surroundings (to come up with a plan on how to escape, mind you) and was surprised with how sparse it was. It looked more like a miniature dojo than anything else.

"I thought you said you'd take me to your house?"

The baseball idiot #2 (as Gokudera was more than pleased to call the stranger in his head) just blinked. "This is my house."

"Huh?" Was the guy homeless or something? Living in a dojo of all places, seriously—how pathetic. Though he wouldn't put it past a certain lawn-haired idiot he knew.

"This is one of our rooms," idiot #2 said. "I thought you'd be more comfortable in here."

"So what, you live in a mansion or something?"

Baseball idiot #2 shrugged ever so slightly. "You could call it that if you want."

Gokudera swore under his breath. Great. Just great. He had been picked up by a "good-willed" rich kid, who probably got a kick out of helping "lost souls" like him. And he should know—he had dealt with rich little pussies for the first eight years of his life, and then some sprinkled about during his time spent on the streets in Italy. It had amused a previous "boss" of his to no end to watch him twitch and squirm. The jerk would always send him on "missions" to watch over rich little mafia kids who were spoiled beyond belief. Needless to say, Gokudera didn't stay there long.

This idiot seemed a little different though. For one thing, he wasn't trying to show off his stuff like others would. Gokudera figured most would prominently display their wealth as if to say, _We're-so-generous-and-oh-aren't-we-so-kind-as-to-share-our-wealth-with-people-like-you_. Or maybe he was in the dojo-like room because this idiot was trying to show him that he wasn't even worth a good room. Probably.

"What?" Gokudera was irritated with baseball idiot #2's silence. While it certainly was refreshing that he didn't talk his ear off about unnecessary things or try to relate everything to a baseball game like idiot #1, it was unnerving. It was just . . . unnatural to see someone with the baseball idiot's face and hair and _not_ have them smile like an idiot or talk in that annoying voice. For some reason it irritated him.

The emotionless idiot simply blinked as if to say, _What do you mean, what?_

"What do you want? You waiting for me to do somethin'?"

"I'm Morinozuka Takashi, or Mori for short. What's your name?"

Gokudera's eyes widened. Holy _hell!_ Not only did the guy look like a carbon copy—_their first names were practically the same! _Next thing this guy would be telling him he was into kendo or something. Gokudera groaned and slammed his palm to his forehead. This was a punishment. God was punishing him.

"What's wrong? Are you all right?" Gokudera glanced up and found Mori (_there was no way he'd ever refer to him by his first name because it was too similar to that idiot's_) right at his side. He found himself a little taken back at the depth of concern and worry in Mori's dark eyes. Only the Tenth (_andmaybethebaseballidiot_) had ever looked at him with those eyes before. Ever. Gokudera could handle the Tenth's concern because he was the greatest person to have ever walked the earth and was so gracious as to treat everyone that ever was or ever would be with the same amount of kindness no matter how much that annoyed Gokudera when it came to _certain_ people—but to see it coming from a person he barely met was . . . uncomfortable.

"Y-yeah . . . 'course I am," Gokudera mumbled. This situation was really annoying. He had to leave.

He took a deep breath and stood up quickly. Once again he regretted his actions as the room spun around him and his legs turned to jelly. He would have fallen if it weren't for the strong arms that caught him.

"You need to rest," Mori said. Gokudera wanted nothing more than to run away from the strange twin of his rival but he found he just couldn't. And so he let Mori help him back on the futon and sat there to wait for the room to stop spinning.

A strong smell assaulted his nose and Gokudera cracked open an eye to see Mori with some tea in his hands as a silent offering.

"What _is_ it with you Japanese people and your tea?" Gokudera muttered. Mori just shrugged and held it out closer. Gokudera sighed and took the offered drink, figuring that this look-alike probably shared the same stubbornness as that idiot. And besides, who said he didn't like tea?

They sat there in complete silence as Gokudera drank his tea. Mori just sat there patiently, watching him with a calm, indifferent expression. And while the silence certainly wasn't awkward, Gokudera couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. It seemed like this Mori guy had absolutely no intentions of making Gokudera do anything, and Gokudera felt this silent idiot was fully prepared to wait the entire night if he had to for Gokudera to talk.

Part of Gokudera wanted to just lie back down on the futon and go to sleep while totally ignoring the stranger. It was how he learned to cope with things. It unnerved him to realize that this person, this total and complete stranger who happened to have Yamamoto's face, hair, and name, be completely concerned for him. Other than the Tenth, the last time Gokudera was confronted with such brutal kindness was from a old woman back in Italy. He had only been on the run for a few months, and when he went in to buy some food, she took him into the back of her shop without hesitation and gave him as much food as he could eat. Then she let him bathe and sleep there (apparently she lived above the shop) and offered him a place to stay, as long as he helped out around the place. It was so tempting that Gokudera actually considered it, but his annoyance with the woman's constant fussing over him and his desire to be a mafia boss's right-hand man had won and he disappeared that night.

He could understand the old woman's kindness since back then he had been such an _adorable _little boy according to all the maids in the mansion, and she was probably lonely. Mori though, completely stumped him. What was this guy's angle? What did he want in return? Well, Gokudera wasn't one to really beat around the bush so he figured he might as well ask. The silence was driving him crazy.

"What is it you want from me?"

Mori's scrutinizing gaze paused for a moment, only to be replaced by one of confusion. "What do you mean?"

Gokudera groaned. Why was it that he always had to deal with the idiots? "I mean—why did you help me? Why are you being so nice? Is there something you want?"

Now Mori was looking at him like _he_ was the idiot. Gokudera hated that look. And so he responded to it the only way he knew how. "It's really stupid to bring a stranger into your house you know," Gokudera said, trying to sound as insulting as possible. "What if I tried to kill you or stole all your money? I'm in the mafia you know!"

Mori quirked an eyebrow at the mafia comment but didn't make any further comment on it. After a moment's pause, Mori said, "I helped you because you were hurt, the only thing I want from you is for you to go back to the hospital, and I know you wouldn't hurt me. At least, not without this." He reached into his pocket and withdrew one of Gokudera's cigarette packs along with one of his lighters. "You won't be able to use your dynamite."

Gokudera was unable to suppress a smirk. This guy was seriously underestimating him. He carried more than just one pack of cigarettes and one lighter! "That's what you think!" he jeered, then reached into one of his many hiding places to pull out another lighter. To his surprise—he came up with nothing. "Wha . . . what the hell?" Gokudera tried again in another place, but came up with the same results. Frantically, Gokudera searched all his hiding spots and found that all of his cigarettes and lighters were missing. He turned his attention to Mori in horror.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Mori's mouth. He shifted slightly and pulled a bag that had been hidden behind his back and Gokudera was shocked to see all his cigarettes and lighters in it. "I could have taken all your dynamite as well, but they're useless without these. Still . . . I'm curious how you manage to hide so much on you. Are you a magician?"

Gokudera was at a loss for words. Was that guy _serious?_ Judging by his expression, he was. And despite how ridiculous it was, Gokudera couldn't help but feel a small amount of pride. He _did_ have a rather amazing talent at being able to conceal weapons on himself. He had picked up the talent early on in his adventures on the streets of Italy. At first it was to just to hide food and money, then he came up with the idea to use it with his weapons.

"NO! I'm not a magician, idiot." He stuck out his chest proudly, winced, then slumped back against the wall. "I'm a hitman."

Mori raised an eyebrow. "As in . . . the mafia?"

"Yeah! My name is Gokudera Hayato, or Smokin' Bomb Hayato as I'm known throughout Italy and the mafia world. I also aim to be the right-hand man of the Tenth once he is officially the Tenth Boss of Vongola, which is the most powerful Mafia Family!" Despite his enthusiasm, Gokudera was just waiting for this Mori to scoff at him, smile weakly and say, "That's nice" like everyone else. That or tell him he's worthless. It usually went either way.

"You must be very strong then," Mori said after a few moment's pause.

"_Oh yeah?_ Well, I'll have you know—" Gokudera blinked. "Huh?"

"I said you must be very strong, to have your own alias and be a right-hand man to a mafia successor." Mori said this so calmly and without any ill intent that Gokudera was caught off guard. This guy was . . . believing him without any skepticism. No name calling, no shoved doors in his face—nothing but acceptance. And Gokudera had no idea how to handle that.

"You . . . you don't think I'm lying?" he said slowly. "You don't think I . . . look too weak?"

Mori raised an eyebrow at the question then shook his head. "Looks can be deceiving. My cousin is nearly half your height and he can knock down a wall with one kick."

Gokudera's eyes widened. Normally, he would write the person off as joking, but it seemed like Mori was telling the truth. "I guess so," he said.

It was silent for a few minutes as Gokudera struggled to figure out what to talk about next. Mori just sat there and watched him, as if he were trying to figure something out. Now Gokudera felt _really_ uncomfortable. Yelling, shouting, and fighting were commonplace to him, but everything was different with this Mori person. Other than the Tenth, he had never really "hung out" with anyone before, so this was all new to him.

Surprisingly, (and to Gokudera's relief) it was Mori who broke the silence. "Who is this Tenth you talked about? What's his name? What's he like?"

Gokudera's expression brightened and he sat up straighter. Now _this_ was something he could talk about! "The Tenth's name is Sawada Tsunayoshi, but it's best to call him by his title to show respect. He's the greatest person to have ever walked the earth! The Tenth is kind to everyone and he helps those in need without a thought about himself." Here Gokudera paused for a moment then continued quietly. "He saved my life before, and he's the only one who's never given up on me."

Mori perked up at the drastic change in Gokudera's behavior. What had brought _that_ on? Could this be related to what he was yelling about when he first met him on the streets?

"It seems he cares a lot about you," Mori said, causing Gokudera's attention to snap back up at him sharply. "He obviously thinks a lot of you and—"

"But I failed him!" Gokudera slammed a fist on the ground. He shut his eyes as if in pain and lowered his head. "In the fight against Mukuro and his dogs I . . . I let myself get possessed by Mukuro and I attacked the Tenth with my dynamite!" Gokudera reached up and pulled down on his hair. "After all he's done for me I wasn't able to be strong enough for him! Of course I would never be able to really hurt him because he's so strong—but I still failed."

As Mori listened to Gokudera, he was doing his best to wrap his mind around "_let myself get possessed._" Was that even possible? Perhaps it was through hypnotism? Either way, he could see that Gokudera was very stressed and punishing himself for whatever it was. Emotionally and physically actually. By now Gokudera was slamming his fists into the sides of his head and Mori quickly reached out and grabbed Gokudera's arms.

"Why are you hurting yourself?" Mori asked, keeping Gokudera's hands a safe distance from his head.

Gokudera looked surprised by the question, as if he had never thought of it before. "Because . . . I'm sorry and I'm a failure."

Mori frowned. "I don't think you're a failure, and it isn't a good idea to hurt yourself like this." Once he was sure Gokudera wouldn't try it again, Mori carefully let go of the younger boy's arms. "And besides, if everything you say is true about this Tenth, then don't you think he would be sad if he saw you hurting yourself?" He watched as Gokudera's eyes widened in horror.

"I . . . I don't want to . . . the Tenth is . . .n-never thought—"

Mori held up a hand. He could see that this was something Gokudera had to figure out on his own, and now was not the time. At least he had been able to point it to him. "Why don't we bring you back to the hospital? I'm sure this Tenth will become worried when he finds out you're not there."

Gokudera gasped. "The Tenth's already been through so much with the fight with Mukuro—how could I do that to him? I'm so selfish!" He raised a clenched fist as if preparing to slam it against the side of his head again. Mori quickly reached out and grabbed Gokudera's wrist and glared at him. Gokudera looked confused for a moment, then blushed in embarrassment. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Let's go." Mori leaned forward and slung one of Gokudera's arms over his shoulders. Gokudera looked like he was about to protest about the help, but once they stood and his legs nearly buckled underneath him, it seemed to cross his mind that perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Mori contacted one of the family drivers and then he and Gokudera settled into the limo. As they traveled, Mori made small talk by asking Gokudera about his life. He would just ask small questions now and then; where did he live, what school did he go to, what were his favorite subjects in school (Mori was actually surprised at the genius Gokudera emanated when talking about school—he was positive Gokudera could pass the Ouran scholarship entrance exam with flying colors, though it was obvious he'd never want to take the test in the first place).

After a while Gokudera started becoming more comfortable around him, and was very animated about his answers. It made Mori's chest swell with pride being able to see how happy and relaxed Gokudera was around him. He had a feeling that most people never took an interest in getting to know Gokudera, so he did his best to be as engaged as he could. He also felt a sort of kinship with him. Aside from Mitskuni and Haruhi, most people never seemed to understand the depth of loyalty Mori showed to his cousin. They usually dismissed it as very odd or something perverted. There was nothing he could do about what people thought, but it always irked him deep down that they couldn't understand.

But Gokudera could. He could because Mori could see how loyal he was to this Tenth, if the continued references to how amazing and kind he was were anything to go by. It gave Mori an odd sense of relief to know that there were other people out there who shared his rather zealous protective devotion. He didn't feel so alone anymore. And it amused Mori to know that someone so similar to him could also be so different. Gokudera was very loud, energetic, and a little rough around the edges, but he was nonetheless an interesting and engaging person.

Mori made a mental note to check up on Gokudera sometime, see how he was doing. When Gokudera mentioned he went to Namimori Middle School, Mori had been a little taken back. Namimori was close, seeing as how Ouran was near their town's border, but it was still a bit of a walk, especially for someone in Gokudera's condition. And that made him all the more motivated to see him now and again. The whole mafia deal was still a bit difficult for him to understand though. Gokudera couldn't be older than fourteen or fifteen! But no matter. There was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was let Gokudera know there was someone who cared. From what he had seen about the mafia in movies, it was a very dangerous profession, and Mori hoped he wouldn't get too hurt.

When they reached the hospital, Mori helped Gokudera out of the limo and they both made their way through the doors. The hospital was rather quiet at this time, and a passing nurse did a double take when she noticed them.

"Wha—are you okay?" Then she noticed the hospital garb and medical bands around Gokudera's wrists, and a look of recognition appeared on her face. She placed a hand on her hip and gave the two of them a dirty look. "I've heard of you, Gokudera Hayato. Did you try and escape again?"

Mori felt Gokudera bristle beside him. "No, ma'am," Mori said quickly. "Gokudera couldn't sleep and wanted some fresh air so I took him for a little walk." The nurse raised an eyebrow then shrugged.

"Whatever. Make sure he gets back to his room and no more night walks. Do you have any idea how late it is?"

"We apologize," Mori said, bowing slightly and subsequently forcing Gokudera to bow as well since he was still relying on him to stand properly. "It won't happen again." The nurse gave a curt nod and continued on her way.

Once she was out of earshot, Gokudera glanced sideways at Mori. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Mori nodded. "Where's your room?" The two of them then made their way to the fourth floor and down the hall. It was silent between them now, and Mori could tell Gokudera was highly embarrassed. It made Mori a little sad to see Gokudera was so uncomfortable with receiving kindness from others.

"Well . . . this is my room," Gokudera said, gesturing to the one on their right. They both stopped and Mori let go of Gokudera's arm. He staggered for a brief moment, then caught himself. "I uh . . . I—" Gokudera glanced to the side and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Thanks . . . for helping me," he mumbled, his cheeks slightly flushed from embarrassment.

Mori gave a soft smile, then placed a hand on Gokudera's head and ruffled his hair slightly. "I was happy to do it." Gokudera froze and glanced up at him sharply, much like how Haruhi and Kasanoda acted when Mori did it to them. Then Gokudera's shock turned into a warm smile. Gokudera gave Mori the tiniest of waves and entered the room. Once the door shut, Mori turned around and started leaving but was stopped a meter away from the door at the voices coming from the other side.

"Gokudera-kun! You're back!"

"Yo, Gokudera! Where were you?"

"None of your business, baseball idiot!"

"Hayato!"

"Sis?"

_Thud!_

"Hiii! Gokudera-kun! Are you all right?"

"Haha! Guess he's more tired than he expected."

Mori allowed a brief smile. It seemed like Gokudera was in good hands. Hopefully. Mori then started his way back down the hall. He was stopped yet again a moment later though by the sound of a door being slammed. Mori turned around only to find a mess of brown hair nearly plow into him. Mori instinctively reached out and caught the figure with ease.

"Ah . . . sorry about that." The brown-haired boy rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled nervously. He too, was covered in bandages. Mori could see he had a number of thin cuts all over his body and he seemed to be favoring his right shoulder. The boy then glanced up at him and Mori lifted an eyebrow at the boy's big, hazel eyes. It reminded him so much of Mitsukuni.

"My name is Sawada Tsunayoshi, and I wanted to thank you for bringing back Gokudera-kun," he said with a bow.

So this was the Tenth Gokudera had told him about? Certainly wasn't the image Mori had figured a future mafia boss would look like, but who was he to judge? Mori responded with a small bow of his head. "It was my pleasure, Sawada-san."

Sawada cringed slightly and let out another nervous chuckle. "Eh . . . you can just call me Tsuna," he said. "No need to get so formal among friends, right?"

How curious. Did that mean Tsuna already considered him a friend? Mori just nodded in response.

"So um . . . yeah, I just really wanted to thank you, Mori," Tsuna said with an eager smile. "Gokudera-kun can be . . . _difficult _at times, but his heart's always in the right place." The smile faded a little. "I was really worried about him, disappearing like that when he was so hurt."

Mori could easily see why Gokudera had chosen to serve and protect this boy. Tsuna heavily reminded Mori of Mitsukuni, who had room in his heart to love everyone and everything, and _then_ some. All in all just one of those rare kind people.

And so, Mori found himself giving Tsuna one of the smiles he usually reserved for Mitsukuni or the Host Club members. He put a hand on Tsuna's head. "I'm glad I was able to help. You and Gokudera are very kind. He's lucky to have a friend like you."

Tsuna blushed with the praise. "Thank you."

Mori nodded a good-bye. "All of you be safe." And he meant it, too. If these boys were involved in the mafia it wasn't going to be easy.

"I—"

"Dame-Tsuna!" A rather peculiar childish voice emanated from the partially open hospital door. For some reason it made Tsuna freeze in absolute fear.

"Hiii! What is it, Reborn?"

"Mafia bosses shouldn't be out of bed when they're supposed to be recovering," the voice (Reborn?) answered.

"I'm coming!" Tsuna said quickly. He started to run back towards the door, paused, gave Mori another hasty bow, then rushed through the door and slammed it.

Mori smiled as he left the hospital. Gokudera and Tsuna had proven to be rather interesting friends. He was looking forward to meeting them again.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it! Comments are appreciated.**

**And as a note, I marked this story as "In-Progress" because I plan this to be a bit of a oneshot collection of sort that cover all of Mori and Gokudera's interactions. I'm not exactly sure how many chapters there will be, but there'll be at least two other chapters.  
**


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